Alone
by soccermommaxie
Summary: Everyone Jace loved was murdered. Jace struggles with his sanity, and the decision of snuffing his most valuable possession- his life.


A shudder coursing through his entire body, Jace wretched up what was left in his hollow stomach into the toilet he kneeled in front of. Of course, it wasn't much; Jace couldn't remember the last time he'd had a decent meal. Or a full meal at all.  
His stomach heaving once more, the golden-haired boy found that there was nothing left inside of him. He was empty; he _felt_ empty. The boy's crumpled form convulsing, a choked sob escaped his chapped lips. He found himself violently shaking and unable to stop himself as tears poured from his bloodshot eyes; he knew that once it got this far, he could but only wait until the attack had its way with him. Sometimes it only took mere minutes. Sometimes hours.  
Turning his head slowly, (even that being painful with his compressing headache) his seraph blade only feet away, the wave of thoughts crashed against his fragile body like a horrible storm and he was too weak to stop them.  
How easy it should be to just end it. Jace would trade his life for the end of this suffering any day, and he had tried countless ties. But each time, as his entire body shook and shined from the cold sweat, holding the seraph blade pointed towards his fluttering heart, a voice stopped him. The same voice.  
His head would slowly look up, his red eyes widening in shock; it was Clary. Clary, who did nothing but love him. Clary, who was pushed into this life. Clary, who would stare down at Jace's weak form, smiling as her perfect eyes showed only understanding and love. The girl stood there like a gentle ghost, not moving, as silent as fog. But her presence caused his grip on the blade to falter.  
"Clary," Jace would attempt to say, but his voice was too scratchy to even recognize the words he tried to speak. Clary would know, however.  
Her soft fingers would brush through Jace's hair- tangled from the amount of times he'd tried to rip it out- and she would bend over and kiss his head, shaking hers as she'd lightly touch his shaking fists gripping the blade. Gently lowering his hand with hers, she'd whisper, her voice being the best sound in the world, "no, Jace."  
Once upon a time, these short hallucinations helped him. They caused him to rethink his actions, considering, "what would Clary think?"  
But Jace couldn't bring himself to consider Clary's feelings. Clary was buried somewhere, her angelic form now torn apart and thrown in a coffin somewhere. This image of her mutilated, lifeless body haunted his dreams and reappeared every time he closed his eyes, it seemed.  
They had been helpless to stop him. The white-haired "angel" that killed for sport. He murdered Clary. He murdered Jace's family. His only hope. He kept Jace alive on purpose, however, and Jace knew exactly that the image of himself- dirty, trembling, and sobbing- was exactly what Sebastian had wanted.  
There was no reason to continue fighting. There was nothing worth fighting for.  
Throwing himself to the side to reach the blade on the floor, Jace scrambled to reach his weapon in his shaking hands. He dropped the blade twice in his buttery grip before getting a firm hold on it, once again pointing it toward himself.  
He closed his eyes and they sting; he took deep breaths and attempted to lessen his tremors. This was the part where Clary would appear.  
Opening his eyes, he found that he was still alone. Nobody was telling him no. Nobody wanted Jace alive anymore.  
His brow furrowed. On his knees, gripping the weapon even tighter, he mentally counted to three.  
One...  
Two...  
Before reaching three, Jace dropped the weapon and exclaimed a loud shout- a cry for help.  
"Clary!" He sobbed, "Clary, help me!" He tilted his head back, toward the heavens, and noisily cried.  
There was no response. He didn't really expect one. Who was he kidding; he knew he wouldn't be able to kill himself. Even without Clary's presence, he was too weak.  
His loud, agonized cries became quiet, hysterical whimpers as he slowly curled in on himself, his forehead touching his thighs. His pale body rose and fell rapidly, his quiet sobs taking over his entire body.  
Slowly, his body tipped, falling gently on his side as his knees curled to his chest. Jace wrapped his arms around them, still whimpering softly.  
The reality of it was like a slap to the face. Jace would never be able to kill himself.  
Even if the entire world begged him to, even if he were at gunpoint.  
Jace would never be able to kill himself.


End file.
